


Mismatch Made In Heaven

by Inkblooded_Witch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Evolution Castiel, Hurt Dean, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Nerd Dean, Punk/Goth Castiel, Trigger Warning: Mentions of past domestic abuse, alpha!Castiel, omega!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-16 10:25:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16952265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkblooded_Witch/pseuds/Inkblooded_Witch
Summary: Dean can be something of a klutz, especially when distracted. One day this dangerous combination rears its head, landing him in the ER. As if this didn’t make for enough excitement, his mate takes this harder than he would have thought. Omegaverse. Rated for language and eventual smut.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed that Castiel is usually the one to get roughed up, so I thought I'd try turning things around for a change. No, I don't intentionally beat them up, that's just where a lot of my plot bunnies end up.

    Dean put the Impala in park, cutting the engine and climbing out. He glanced around their apartment complex as he went around to the passenger side, pulling out his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He slammed that door shut, then went around to pop the trunk. Inside were half a dozen bags full of groceries, half of which he needed to get into the fridge sooner before later.

    He picked up the one with the milk first, going to climb the wrought iron stairs. Their apartment complex had two levels, each second level unit with their own set of steps leading up to the front door landing. He fished a set of keys from his pocket as he climbed, stumbling twice because of the distraction. He was always clumsy, something his mate never tired of teasing him about. For some reason he'd been gifted with the ability to trip over flat surfaces and find an amazing number of things to bruise himself on over the years. Like he needed the help.

    Absently reaching up to push his glasses back up his nose, he jiggled his house key out of the mess and jammed it into the lock. They were black, thick, horn rimmed things, but his eyes were so bad the lenses he needed were thick, and these frames were the only ones he could use that he actually liked to some degree. They were annoying, but contacts had never worked for him and he hadn't worked himself up to Lasik yet. That and it wasn't exactly what one might call 'in the budget'. Not when both he and his mate were working while he took classes.

    When Dean did get the door open he shouldered his way through, glancing around. "Cas?"

    There wasn't a response, but the TV was on, and it was Saturday afternoon. Castiel didn't work Saturdays unless there were extra shifts to pick up. This was actually why he'd been at the library most of the day, so he could finish assignments in silence. When the Alpha was home, you knew it.

    Huffing, annoyed, Dean stomped through the living room to the kitchen, dumping his backpack into a kitchen chair and pulling open the fridge. "Could you help me?" he asked loudly, plunking the jug on the fridge's shelf before pushing the door shut.

    "Busy," came the bored reply from their bedroom.

    "Why did you leave Dr. Sexy on if you're busy?" Dean asked, marching back through the apartment.

    By the time he came back in with more groceries Castiel had wandered out, leaning against the doorframe as Dean put more things in the fridge and freezer. Dean waited until the sealed doors were both firmly closed before straightening, turning to regard his mate. Castiel's attire knew very little variation, unless he was forced to attend something that required something a step up from jeans. The dark denim pants he now wore were frayed at the hems, ripped and tattered. Scuffed boots and a ratty gray t-shirt that Dean thought might have once been white complemented the look. Well, that and the tattoos. Dozens of them ran up the Alpha's arms from his wrists, disappearing under his shirt. More were hidden under his clothes, but the five facial piercings and black eyeliner were clearly visible. A lit cigarette dangled from his fingers.

    Dean made a face. "Could you do that outside?"

    "I was. You wanted me in here," Castiel drawled, amused.

    The Omega sighed, turning away. "Never mind. It's just one more trip anyway. Take that back outside, would you?"

    Castiel smirked, turning away as Dean went back out the front door. There was a small patio on the other side of the unit, looking out over the highway. The Omega didn't like that his mate smoked, wasn't a fan of the taste either, but Castiel had agreed not to do it in their shared living space. They'd also invested a good deal in things like Febreze and mouthwash. Periodically he'd tried to quit, but it never lasted more than a month. The Alpha wasn't the pack-a-day sort, thank gods, but Dean could always tell what kind of day his mate was having by how many he went through.

    Dean got out the remaining groceries, shoving the trunk shut and climbing back up the steps. He was almost to the top when the gratingly familiar voice of Ms. Johnson reached his ears. "Yoo-hoo! Can I speak with you?"

    The Omega stopped one step short of the top, trying not to let his shoulders visibly slump. Easily one of the most avoided people in their complex, the current head of the HOA, Ms. Johnson was a very grating person. Dean didn't hate just anybody, but he could almost hate that Beta. Castiel certainly did. She didn't like people who weren't to a certain standard, and the Alpha didn't meet it by any stretch of the imagination. Funny enough, she liked Dean just fine, but she was actively trying to get Castiel kicked out.

    Dean was reluctantly turning to face the Beta when his foot caught on the last step. It threw off his balance enough that he stumbled, bags falling from his hands as he tried to stabilize himself. Unfortunately one of the bags hit the foot he'd just put down on a lower step, the one with a jug of laundry detergent. He yelped, grabbing for the rail, only to stare in horror as he toppled backwards, the rail narrowly missing his grasping fingers.

    Dean tried to catch himself, grab the railing, something. Instead he tumbled all the way down, something that was surprisingly loud. He thought he heard metal shriek, only to realize the sound was human. Well, no one had ever accused Ms. Johnson of being calm in a crisis.

    One of the steps smacked into his temple all the way down, spots flashing behind his eyes. A buzz started ringing in his ears after that, the bumps hurting far less than they should. It was just as well, he hit a lot of body parts on the way down. He'd be black and blue for days, weeks, he just knew it.

    The spectacle ended at the stair's base, when concrete smacked into his face. Only then did Dean notice the painful stinging around his eyes, not to mention the fact that his left arm felt...funny. Everything hurt, the air knocked from his lungs, the shock of initial pain making it difficult to suck in air. He wanted to know just how bad it was, but it was hard to make a guess when Ms. Johnson wouldn't stop shrieking. Couldn't she do something useful, like walk away? Maybe call 911? Suddenly Castiel's desire to have her walk off a roof one day didn't seem quite so undeserved.

    "Dean!"

    The Omega stirred, trying to sit up at his mate's voice. He sounded upset. Unfortunately the movement sent a jolt of pain up his shoulder, making him suck in a sharp gasp.

    "Dean, don't move." The Alpha turned, yelling back at the Beta, "Would you shut the hell up?" In a lower, calmer tone he coaxed, "Don't move. Don't open your eyes either."

    "Eyes?" Dean mumbled, reluctantly obeying. Castiel was gingerly lifting his body from the ground, moving him so his legs came off the bottom step and propping him against the building.

    "Yeah, your glasses are broken. There's shards...just keep them closed, alright love?"

    "My arm," the Omega protested, trying to pull away from the dirty brick. "Something's wrong with it."

    "Yes, it looks dislocated. Damn it Dean, I said don't move."

    "Can you put it back?" he asked weakly.

    "Yeah, just hold still, alright?"

    Dean nodded, winced, then bit an already bloodied lip as Castiel repositioned his arm.

    "On three, alright?"

    "’Kay."

    "One- “

    "Ah! What happened to two and three?" Dean protested, eyes cracking open.

    "It's better this way, Dean, trust me. How's it feel?"

    Dean opened his mouth to utter a sharp retort, but hesitated. "Better," he admitted, surprised, opening his eye a little more. The pain was hardly gone, but it was no longer so intense.

    "Good. What else'd you hit?"

    "My head."

    "I noticed." Callused fingers gripped his chin, his hold firm but gentle. Castiel turned his head one way, then the other. "You're going to have a wicked shiner. Looks like you hit some of the shards into your face. I think I can get some of the bigger pieces out. Want me to try?"

    "Can you get me inside first? I don't want to hear her start shrieking again."

    Castiel hummed what sounded like an agreement. He straightened, then reached down to pull the Omega upright. One foot wouldn't support his weight, but otherwise he could stand just fine. "Like hell you're going inside. You're going to the hospital."

    "Don't they charge a lot?"

    "Probably. It doesn't matter. You need a doctor."

    "Cas, I'm fine. A few bandages and an ice pack- “

    "You're going to the fucking doctor, Dean," the Alpha informed him, tone hard. "Come on, watch your step. It's probably just sprained. How the hell did you fall?"

    "Distracted," Dean mumbled.

    "By what?"

    "Queen bitch." It was Castiel's preferred title for the HOA head. Normally he never used it, but Dean wasn't very charitable when he was in pain.

    "Remind me to kill her when we get back," the Alpha stated, gingerly folding him into the Impala's passenger seat.

    "Cas- “

    "Don't give me that." The door slammed shut as he hurried around, going to shut and lock their door before bounding back down and climbing in behind the wheel. "It's her fault. I told you we should have tried to get a ground unit."

    "I remember."

    "You're not supposed to carry a bunch of crap up at once, either. And if the queen bitch starts screeching you ignore her."

    "That's rude, Cas."

    "Rude? You're all busted up and you're worried about being rude?" the Alpha demanded.

    Dean stopped talking after that. He closed his eyes, waiting out the rest of the drive, fully aware of his seething mate. Codling wasn't exactly Castiel's go-to method when he was angry. Not to mention they'd have doctors’ bills to deal with after this, and another pair of glasses. He had spares, but they were old, scratched and not the current prescription. Both of them worked, Castiel as a manager at Gas ‘N Sip across the highway while Dean took shifts at the local mechanic’s shop. At his mate's insistence he was a full-time student, which cut things closer than he would have liked but they were able to pay rent every month. Dean didn't like the idea of adding doctor's bills to the list of expenses. The tuition alone always had them down to things like instant noodles and PB&J's for a month every semester.

    The Omega lifted his head when the Impala finally lurched into park. He reached out to open the door, only to stare in shock at his hands. His right hand must have gotten cut on the way down, there was a long line on the side of his palm dripping blood.

    "Damn it Dean," the Alpha growled, slamming his door.

    Dean flinched, waiting for him to haul open the door to carefully climb out. From there it was a short limp to the ER's doors, sliding open as Castiel brought him across the threshold. The Omega kept his head down, avoiding the eyes he felt on him. He wasn't a fool, he knew that in a situation like this the first thing that'd come to mind was a beating. Namely by an angry Alpha. It was the one thing he couldn't get used to, how people reacted to Castiel.

    The Alpha helped him over to a chair, lowering him down gingerly before striding over to the desk. Dean lifted his head, peering around a little. His vision was reduced to smudges and vague blurs, but he got the sense there was roughly eight people in the waiting room. Wincing, he looked down at his hand. Blood was starting to drip to the floor at his feet. Had he dripped in Baby too?  His left shoulder ached, if in a more dulled fashion, so did the rest of his body. No doubt he'd be black and blue come morning, never mind his busted foot.

    Castiel was talking, he sounded angry. Dean couldn't really make out what. His head was swimming. How much blood had he lost?

    He had just realized he was starting to sway in his seat when someone put a hand on his bad shoulder. The Omega shifted, lifting his head a little as someone not his mate sat next to him. Dean lifted his head a little more to peer at them, blinking in an effort to clear his vision. Normally he would squint, but that hurt too much right now. It was a miracle he hadn't gotten glass in his eyes.

    "Are you alright?" a soft female voice whispered. "Who did this to you?"

    "I did this to myself. Why are you whispering?"

    "You don't need to cover for him, you know. I work with B.M.A., I can help you."

    Dean bristled, jaw clinching. She wasn't the first to mention that, as grating as it was. B.M.A., Battered Mates Aid, was an invaluable organization he knew, but it annoyed him that people made such assumptions. Castiel would never hurt him. He wouldn't have mated the Alpha otherwise.

    "I'm not...I'm clumsy, my hands were full and I got distracted. He didn't do this to me."

    The Beta put more pressure on his shoulder, probably to be insistent. A jolt of white-hot pain shot down his arm and up his spine, knocking the breath out of his lungs. "That was dislocated twenty minutes ago," he stated in a strained voice.

    Her hand flew away as boots stalked across the linoleum. "Dean? Is she bothering you?"

    "She's worrying over nothing."

    "Are you his mate?" the Beta asked, rising to her feet.

    Whatever they said after that Dean had no idea. His ears were ringing too much, his vision temporarily going blank. He could feel himself swaying in his chair, his bloody fingers slipping when he tried to grab the arm.

    "Cas," he mumbled weakly. "I don't...feel....so.....”

    "Damn it I told you he's losing blood over here!" Hands caught his face, fingers pressing to his pulse. "Dean, come on stay with me. Where’s that doctor?"

    Dean was vaguely aware of the proceedings, but he did manage to stay conscious. Once they stopped eyeing Castiel with suspicion long enough to notice Dean was dripping blood in their waiting room they took prompt care of him. Someone cleaned and dressed his wounds, though the cut in his hand needed stitches. A C.T. scan confirmed he had a minor concussion, which explained his headache. Every little shard of glass was removed from his face, a sling secured to his bad arm, a booted brace put on his twisted ankle, and at some point a nurse gave him some very powerful pain medication with a prescription for more.

    It took well over an hour before they were able to leave, though thanks to the medication they had to roll him out to the Impala via wheelchair. A crutch went in the backseat, and Castiel parked long enough to call in the medication. That done he drove them home, and Dean found himself in a very light mood now that the pain was gone.

    "How many stitches did he say it took again?" the Omega asked, squinting at his hand.

    "Thirteen."

    "Hey Cas?"

    “Yes?”

    “You’re awesome. Ya know that?”

    He heard his mate chuckle. “So you’ve told me.”

    “Well, you are. Hey, can we get some pie?”

    “Sure. What kind would you like?”

    “I dunno. What kind do you think they’ll have?”

    “I’ll check the bakery section before I pick up your prescription,” Castiel promised. “The doctor said you needed to take it on a full stomach anyway.”

    “It’s like when people ask me what kind of pie’s my favorite,” Dean complained. “I can’t choose.”

    “Then I’ll get more than one. I’ll also see if they have chicken pot pie, maybe quiche.”

    A dreamy smile crossed Dean’s face before reality hit. “Can we afford that? We’re already going to have doctor’s bills, and the new glasses. I need to call the optometrist. Do you think they’re still open?”

    “I already called them. I’ll pick up your new glasses tomorrow. All you need to do is call work.”

    “I can’t,” Dean protested. “I can do paperwork, or just work on tires or something.”

    “No, Dean. You’re to stay off that foot until it’s properly healed. I intend to keep you sufficiently drugged until then. You can still go to classes but you’re not working on it. The longer you rest the faster you’ll heal.”

    “I need to work,” Dean protested, peering at the blur of colors that was his mate. “It’s bad enough I’m costing us so much as it is without our income taking a hit.”

    “Dean, enough. You have plenty of paid leave time you’ve never used, and I’m sure Bobby will understand. Hasn’t he been after you to take time off anyway?”

    “Maybe,” he admitted, pouting out the window. Later he’d blame the loopy state the drugs had put him in.

    “I’ll call him, then. And I’ll drop off that doctor’s note when I get your glasses. It’ll be fine, we’ll be fine. Alright?”

    Dean slumped in his seat. He knew that tone. Castiel had decided to be stubborn. He’d be very difficult to dissuade now. It wasn’t often his mate dug in his heels like this, but once he did it often took a great deal of effort to change his mind. Effort that Dean was in no shape to exert.

    “’M kay,” he grumbled. “Can you…get Jell-O too? Technically I’m sick, since I’m taking medicine.”

    “Sure,” Castiel agreed, tone softening. “What kind would you like?”

    Dean still felt out of it when they got home. Castiel helped him up the steps, one by one, to their front door. By then he was muttering about plans to get them into a first-floor apartment like he’d wanted originally. But that hadn’t been available at the time and Dean had thought his Alpha was being overprotective.

    “Don’t wanna move,” he mumbled as he hobbled into the living room. Castiel had decided he was too unstable to use the crutch yet, so he had his good arm over the Alpha’s shoulders. “Tired of moving. You promised we’d be here until we could afford a house.” A promise his mate had made knowing just how much John had moved them around as a kid, and how much Dean hated it. This was the first place they’d had together, the plan being to remain there until they could buy a house.

    “I know, love,” Castiel told him gently. “I’m sorry, but we never should have taken a unit with stairs in the first place.”

    “It was an accident.”

    Castiel lowered him down onto the couch, then took the Omega’s face in his hands. He pressed his lips to one of the bruise-free parts of Dean’s cheek, the barely-there tender touch sending a pleasant shiver down his spine despite the drugs. He gazed up at his mate, for all his face was still a series of colored smudges.

    “This never should have happened,” Castiel whispered. “You’re lucky. You could have broken your spine, your skull….as bad off as you are now it could have been so much worse. I love you and I could have easily lost you today. Forgive me if I’m a little over protective.”

    “I love you too,” Dean informed him with a dopey grin. “I know I don’t say it a lot, ‘cause I suck at words, but I do. You’re awesome, Cas, and I love you.”

    The Alpha chuckled, lightly brushing his lips against Dean’s cut ones before drawing away. He went and fetched Dean’s scratched spare glasses, carefully sliding them onto the Omega’s face. He made sure to leave the remote and Dean’s cell within reach, along with a can of soda with orders to text should he need or want anything.

    Dean was still watching Dr. Sexy reruns when he returned, bags in hand. Castiel put two chicken pot pies in the oven, poured some of the juice he’d bought to keep his mate on a steady stream of fluids, and stepped back out. The Omega didn’t think much about it until he came back just at the oven timer went off, when his first dose had started to wear off.

    “Where’d you go?” he mumbled, trying to minimize the movement of his sore face.

    Castiel set a tray over his legs, glancing up at his face. “The front office. The people in 15A are letting their lease expire next month when they move out.”

    “15A?” Dean mumbled, staring at the tray. The pie sat neatly on one of their plates, a napkin tucked next to it beneath a fork. “We’re 18A.” Odd numbers were first floor units, evens were second floor units. The buildings equated to letters.

    “Yes, we wouldn’t even have to get a truck. Just find enough friends to help with the heavy stuff. They’ve agreed to transfer the lease from one unit to another. Considering the conditions of the accident they’re not even charging.”

    “They were afraid we’d sue?”

    “Since one of their live-in employees caused this, yes.”

    “She told ‘em?”

    “I did. They were very cooperative after that. Eat, you need to take another dose.”

    Dean carefully picked up his fork, prodding holes in the pie’s top, steam curling out. “If I’d just ignored her this wouldn’t have happened.”

    “It’s not your fault,” Castiel sighed. He set a second tray on their coffee table, dishes clattering. “Please stop insisting otherwise. You’re in no condition to be disciplined accordingly.”

    Heat not from the pie warmed Dean’s face. He busied himself nibbling on one bites were cool enough to do so, listening as his Alpha switched to one of the old Star Trek movies. _Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home_ , to be exact. One of his favorites.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to majesticduxk!

    For what remained of the weekend Castiel kept the drugs coming like clockwork. Every four hours on the dot Dean would be plied with food so he could take his next dose, even if he had to wake him up to do it. He’d acquired yogurts as well as Jell-O, things that’d be easy to get down.

    By Monday Dean felt better equipped to face the outside world. His first class wasn’t until 10:00, at least. Enough time for him to go off the hard stuff and figure out the crutch. Initially he’d planned on getting by without it, until Castiel caught him at it. His mate had not been pleased, to say the least. Just because the boot on his bad foot was meant to help him walk didn’t mean he needed to strain himself unnecessarily, or at least that was his Alpha’s insistence. He’d threatened to follow him around should he try to do that again before he was ready.

    Dean heard the mutters as he hobbled into the lecture hall. He ignored them, or rather he tried to. He kept his head down, lowering himself into an aisle seat near the back, propping up his crutch and fishing his supplies from his backpack. He’d looked himself in the mirror this morning, when he’d been trying to decide whether it was safe to risk a shave or not. Not only had he concluded it wasn’t, but he’d gotten a good look at the state of himself. The cuts had all scabbed over, and half of his face was covered in an array of ugly, blotchy bruises. Ones that had become blue and purple, green starting to creep into the edges. More were scattered all over his body from head to toe, for all they weren’t quite as densely packed as those on his face. Despite it being June he’d worn jeans and a work boot on his good foot rather than cargo shorts, as he usually did when heat hit. The last thing he needed was more reason for people to stare as they were now. His right hand, the one with the stitches, was bandaged but he could use it. His left arm would be in a sling for a little while yet, which was remarkably annoying, for all he hadn’t been cleared to drive yet. Castiel had had to drive him to campus and would be picking him up to take him home between shifts. Though Dean had a sneaking suspicion he’d simply be brought to work where Castiel could keep an eye on him and his keep his doses regular.

    He’d set out a few sheets of notebook paper and a pencil for notes, and was placing his recorder on what remained of the tiny desk space when someone dropped into the seat in front of him. Dean ignored them, at first. But his head jerked up when someone asked, “Are you okay?”

    “I’m fine,” Dean said for what felt like the umpteenth time, nudging his new glasses a bit higher on his nose. Anna was nice enough, a female Beta who shared his ambitions to get a mechanical engineering degree. She, like him, was in the minority for this field. They’d known each other for years simply because they’d been on the same educational track while holding down part-time jobs.

    “You really don’t look okay,” Anna countered. “What happened?”

    “I fell.”

    “Into a woodchipper?”

    That got a tiny smile out of Dean, one that pulled on the scabs on his lips. “Nah, just down a flight of stairs.”

    Anna’s eyes narrowed. “When? I mean you look like hammered crap but I didn’t think you’d actually gotten hammered.”

    “Thanks,” he said wryly. “Saturday.”

    “And your Alpha let you come here?”

    “Yeah, but he wouldn’t let me go to work,” he grumbled. “He won’t let me do anything, actually. It’s driving me nuts. I tried to make my own breakfast this morning and he wigged out on me.”

    “You’re kidding, right?”

    Dean finally looked up, meeting her eyes. “What do you mean?”

    Anna leaned in a little, arms folded on the back of her auditorium styled seat. “Look, I know how people are about him, but I’ve met the guy. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’m surprised he let you out of the apartment the way you are.”

    “He knows how important this is,” Dean protested. “He wasn’t thrilled about it, but we’ve got a test on Wednesday. Today’s the review. Besides, he’d already said I could come today.” He’d never liked how it was regarded as a given, that it was an Alpha’s right to order around their mate. Part of the reason he’d fallen for Castiel was because he didn’t do that. Sure he put his foot down sometimes, like he was now, but only when it was something he felt strongly about. Hell, he’d even insisted Dean get his degree first because he’d been more passionate about it than Castiel was about the accounting degree he’d selected for himself. He didn’t care that it went against the norm, anymore than he seemed to care people looked at him differently because of his style choice.

    “Dean, I wasn’t kidding about you looking like hammered crap. You’re down to one good leg, you can’t drive, and I’m guessing you’re still drugged. My minor’s Breed Studies, remember? Chances are his instincts are _still_ through the roof.”

    The Omega grimaced at that. “He’s hovering. That’s it. Cas is fine.”

    “His mate fell down a flight of stairs. Even a shitty Alpha would feel that. This one adores you. You do the math.”

    With that Anna faced forward again, flicking red hair over her shoulder as she slid the small desk over her lap. Dean scowled at his own paper, tapping his pencil as much as his injured hand would allow. Damn, now he was thinking about it, as loathe as he was to admit it Anna had a point. He’d just been trying to ignore it.

    Anna was of the more open minded of his companions. Sam got along well with his mate, which had been a major selling point in Castiel’s favor. Otherwise Dean didn’t care what people thought of him or his mate as a general rule. Castiel was a good man, a good Alpha, a good mate. His taste in body modifications hardly tainted his personality. Far too many people associated their presence to badassery, for example. While that was partly true, he’d also seen Castiel get misty eyed during Disney movies and ASPCA commercials. He’d once had a near-breakdown because he’d stepped on a bee. He adored the damned things, and had plans to get a bee box or two should they ever be able to afford a house of their own. He couldn’t cook but he was very good with numbers, and considering he was the one without a degree he was the one who did their taxes. He was good with pups and shared Dean’s wish for them someday, he liked Italian opera music and honey and Bugs Bunny and romcoms and…and he was _Cas_. Granted he wasn’t the sort of person Dean had seen himself settling down with, but then things changed when you were out of the oppressive environment of high school. Back when he was the Omega who was stretched between studying and taking care of Sammy and getting in as many hours as Bobby would let him. Back when they were technically under John’s care, before their surrogate father had adopted them and refused to let Dean do more than part-time work while in school. He’d block out the ridicule of other students by day, generally barbs tossed at an Omega who hardly fit the traditional stereotype, and at night he’d dodge John as best he could. He’d been aware of the Alpha who hung around the fringe of things, the one with black painted nails and eyeliner who snuck smoke breaks on the school roof. That was how he’d met Castiel, he’d found the roof was a good place to hide from tormenters and get school work done. The Alpha hadn’t sent him away, and they’d spent hours in mutual silence.

    Then one day he’d been dragged from his half-asleep studying stupor when fingers that reeked of tobacco had gripped his chin, lifting it. He’d jerked away, telling the Alpha exactly what he could go do with himself. Castiel, who was crouching in front of him with a frown, had merely cocked his head to one side and asked, “Who hit you?”

    This particular day had followed one of John’s drunken rampages. One in which Dean had been too tired to dodge fast enough. He’d tried to cover the bruises as best he could, but apparently he hadn’t done it as well as he’d thought.

    “None of your business. Leave me alone.”

    Castiel had stayed there for a long minute before straightening, returning to his position with his back to a rumbling AC unit, tapping another cigarette from the box. While the Alpha hadn’t asked him directly about it again, Dean had felt those eyes on him more often after that. The next time he showed up at school wounded, and on that occasion it’d been two split lips, he’d found himself cornered and handed an ultimatum. Either he was to contact help or Castiel would do it for him. While he’d refused at first, the Alpha had pushed for answers. He’d pushed and pushed until the Omega had broken down. At the time he’d blamed it on his then-pending heat, but now he knew it was a culmination of that, frayed nerves, and exhaustion both mental and physical. It was the first time he’d voluntarily obeyed an Alpha not his father.

    Even as he’d been pelted with curses and smacked repeatedly with a fist Castiel had held him, waiting until the tears had stopped to hold him at arm’s length. Fingers tipped in black polish had brushed away the wet streaks, resettled his glasses, and grasped his shoulders. He’d asked numerous firm if gentle questions after that, if there was anyone he could go to, could he get away before John came home, did he need any help getting his things together.

    Dean had declined his help, for all he mumbled a reluctant thanks before fleeing the janitor’s closet he’d been yanked into. As soon as he was home he and Sam got together what they could carry and went to Bobby’s. Their surrogate uncle had had an idea of what was going on, but had been unable to do anything and was furious because of it. He’d gladly taken them in, offering them shelter while the CPS representative Dean had called talked to them.

    It was still a mystery to Dean, just how and when Castiel had tracked him down at Bobby’s. But when John had shown up, drunk and pissed as hell on the other Alpha’s doorstep, his rantings had fallen abruptly silent as Sam had called the police. When Bobby and Dean had ventured out, armed with shotguns, they’d found quite a scene among the shells of wrecked cars. Squarely beneath a tall streetlight, twisting the older Alpha’s arm behind his back and pinning him firmly to the ground, was Castiel. Even as Dean had watched the arm was given a jerk, his father howling as it popped from its socket. He’d taken a lurching step forward, only to get held back by Bobby. Only then had he recognized the scene for what it was: a battle for dominance.

    Even drunk and pissed John seemed to realize he was beat. Later Dean doubted it would have ended this way if he’d noticed they had spectators. At the time he was more shocked at seeing his father lower his gaze and offer his neck in submission. Castiel had only growled, a low feral sound that sent a tremor down Dean’s spine. His lips had moved, his words too quiet for Dean to catch, but the blood had drained from John’s face. To this day he didn’t know what Castiel had said, but John’s face had gone dead white. Then his body had gone limp and he’d wet himself in a show of complete, utter submission.

    Only then had Castiel released him, backing off. He stood over John for the next half hour, until police arrived. Dean had been frozen to the spot, watching as red-laced cobalt eyes stayed on the felled Alpha. That color could only mean one of two things, either Castiel had gone feral or he was in rut. Seeing as he wasn’t humping everything in sight, the obvious answer was the former. This didn’t truly worry Dean until two cops tried to approach him. For all they were careful, cautious, approaching in plain view and in a nonthreatening manner, Castiel had still growled at them.

    When Bobby had nudged him forward, motioning for him to get the Alpha, Dean had looked at him like he was nuts. But Bobby had insisted, so he’d edged forward. He didn’t have to go far before he had Castiel’s full attention, red-laced eyes locking onto him, his head cocking, the growl dying off sharply.

    “Hey, uh, Cas? You okay?”

    He froze when Castiel stepped away from the still limp, now unconscious, from of John Winchester. In a heartbeat Castiel was striding over to him, grabbing the Omega in a firm embrace and burying his face in his neck. What had previously been a growl turned to a contented croon as he swayed on his feet. Dean swung both arms around him, fisting one hand in the back of Castiel’s black denim jacket, gripping the back of his neck with the other. He shuffled back a little, the Alpha shuffling with him, clinging to the Omega and keeping his face in Dean’s scent glands.

    “Easy, Cas, it’s okay. We’re okay. Take it easy.”

    The Alpha had stayed this way for well over an hour, even as they gave their statements. The red hadn’t left his eyes until morning. Dean had had to stumble up to the house, up the stairs, and flop onto his bed still entangled with the Alpha, seeing as the couch wasn’t big enough for both of them. He’d woken up the next morning with a temporary mate mark on his neck and an Alpha who was apparently part Cuddle Bear. He hadn’t been overly thrilled about that, for all he’d been grateful. Sam had been in awe, Bobby had fed him breakfast and shaken his hand when they’d come downstairs. Castiel had essentially been adopted after that, whether either of them liked it or not.

    He hadn’t forced Dean into anything, the Omega had to give him that. He hung around, spent time with him, helped Sam with his homework, got Bobby’s shop’s taxes in order, and generally managed to worm his way into the reluctant Omega’s heart. In the week between finals and when they walked for their diploma’s, Castiel mated him.

    From the start he’d been a highly protective Alpha, to him and to Sam. Granted it was only when provoked, but still. Dean had blamed it on Castiel’s tendency to mother-hen, like when Dean had gotten a cold. He’d been put on couch-arrest, force-fed chicken soup with saltines, and forced to drink his body weight in fluids until his fever dropped. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t thought much about Castiel’s behavior this time. But that had been a common ailment that had passed within a week. This was a serious injury.

    With Anna’s words in mind, Dean studied his mate as he hobbled towards the curb where Castiel had pulled up with the Impala. The Alpha was getting out, coming around to open his door and help him into the passenger seat, taking his crutch and tossing it into the backseat. He couldn’t really put his finger on it, but…something was off. How had he not noticed this sooner?

    “Cas?” he asked carefully as they pulled away from the curb.

    “Yeah?”

    “You okay?”

    “I should be asking you that. You need to eat something when we get home so you can take your next dose. Is something bothering you?”

    “No, I’m fine. Cas, I…”

    Blue eyes turned to study him worriedly as they waited for a red light to turn off campus. He looked worried, but he didn’t push, waiting patiently. Damn it.

    “Never mind,” he mumbled, looking away. He turned on the stereo, hoping some good Zep would take his mind off things. As he sat back, though, it occurred to him something was not quite right.

    Dean looked around Baby’s interior slowly, gears churning as they pulled forward. It was cool out, enough that the heater was on. It was rattling, but that was normal. Legos he and Sammy had shoved in there ages ago. The windows were up, which…didn’t make sense. Yes it was cold enough to warrant the heater usage, but whenever Dean got into the car with Castiel like this the windows were always rolled down. It was one of his own rules, the only way Castiel was allowed to smoke in Baby was if he was in dire need and the windows were rolled down. It had been cause for more than one fight over the years. Once he’d even kicked Castiel out of the car because it was practically a blizzard and the Alpha needed a fix bad but refused to let in the ice to get it. Granted Dean had doubled back to get him less than a mile later, but he’d made him put the smokes in the trunk so as to remove temptation.

    “Didn’t you come from work?” Dean asked abruptly.

    “Yeah, I’m going to drop you off, give you your next dose, then go back. Why? I can stay if- “

    “No, no, it ain’t that,” the Omega protested.

    “Then what? Something’s bothering you, don’t deny it.”

    “When was the last time you smoked?” Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know the answer. He’d been so busy grumbling about his Alpha’s babying him he hadn’t noticed just how often he was stepping out for smoke breaks.

    “Why? I thought you tried to ignore that.”

    “I do. But the windows are up and Baby don’t smell like an ashtray.” He leaned over a little, sniffing. He worked hard to keep it out of their clothes, Castiel’s especially, sometimes running things through the wash twice with double the recommended amount of detergent. That said, there should still be traces hanging on his mate. It was there, but it was weaker than it should be. Castiel was also paler than he should be, a sheen of sweat on his brow that was hardly from the heat.

    Castiel was quiet for a long minute, staring straight ahead. They drove for another two blocks before he said abruptly, “I’m quitting.”

    “What?”

    “I’m quitting.”

    “Cold turkey?”

    “Cold turkey.”

    “You’re going into withdrawal, you look like hammered crap,” Dean protested. How had he been so blind? He blamed his own drug-induced haziness, writing it off as only mild anxiety triggered by an injured mate.

    “Thank you,” the Alpha told him wryly. “I thought you’d be happy. I know you hate them.”

    “I do, I’m happy, I just…why? Why now? I’ve been on your ass for years, Cas.” The Alpha had worked down to a few cancer sticks a day, in addition to obediently following his Omega’s zoning rules on where he could and couldn’t smoke them, but he was still thoroughly hooked.

    Castiel’s jaw tightened, fingers flexing on the wheel. “It’s my fault,” he said in a low voice.

    Dean groaned. “We’ve been over this, it’s not- “

    “If I had helped you, you wouldn’t have been out there when Ms. Johnson showed up. You wouldn’t have fallen. If I hadn’t been smoking, if I didn’t need to finish that one stupid fucking cigarette, I would have helped you carry up the damn groceries and neither of us would have been outside when that bitch came to bug us.”

    The Omega stared at him. Castiel didn’t swear often. Not unless he was worked up about something or they were being intimate. “Is that what you think- “

    “It’s what I _know_ happened,” Castiel snapped, voice raised as he smacked the steering wheel.

    Dean jerked away automatically, shoulder raising, “Geez, Cas!”

    The Alpha grimaced, glancing at him ruefully. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m just…yes I’m in withdraw and it’s not fun but it will be worth it. Besides, secondhand smoke is very unhealthy. Especially for pups.”

    That had been one of Dean’s own arguments many times before. Supposedly it had also been motivation for his previous quitting attempts. That said, all previous quitting attempts had been done with weaning. Not cold turkey.

    “What’re you doing?” he asked as Castiel pulled off the main road.

    The Alpha threw Baby into park once they were in a far-flung space of a Target parking lot, turning to face him. Castiel seemed to hesitate, then slowly reached out to cup the Omega’s face in his hands. He leaned in, resting their forehead together, brushing Dean’s lips with his own tenderly.

    “I’m sorry,” he murmured, thumbs brushing blue and purple skin with a barely-there touch. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

    “Didn’t scare me,” Dean protested automatically. That much was true. They had fights, but they were always verbal, and he always gave as good as he got. Never had Castiel raised a hand to him. Well, never in a way that wasn’t in consensual sexy fun. Never had Castiel been the domineering, controlling bastard John had been. But after so long some reactions had become ingrained, and Dean hated when they were triggered. He hated it even more when Castiel noticed and started treating him like he was made of fragile glass. Hated that John had had such a lasting effect.

    “Insomnia, irritability, anxiety, restlessness,” Castiel murmured, stroking his hair, not pulling away. “Symptoms of withdrawal. It’s likely going to be worse than before. Perhaps I should wait- “

    “No!” Dean protested, pulling away to glare at him. “Hell no, Cas, you’re on a roll. You’re off and you’re gonna stay off, you hear me?”

    “You’re sure?”

    “Dead sure.” A slow smile began to spread across his face. “One month’s supposed to be the first big mile marker, right?”

    “Yes, why?”

    “My heat’s due in four weeks. If you can’t stay sober that long, you’re not going to join me.”

    Castiel went still. “What?”

    “You heard me. So much as one cigarette and you’re out.”

    It wasn’t a threat he wanted to follow-through with, but if he had to he would. Solo heats could be a misery, he’d suffered through more than one before mating Castiel. Ruts weren’t much better, or so he’d heard. But generally once mated ruts were only triggered by the heat of a mate. Omegas weren’t so lucky. They ranged from three days to a full week, but generally balanced out once they’d reached maturity. For Dean this meant five days of misery. Or at least it had been. Having a mate to sate your heat/rut made a world of difference. Even if he kicked Castiel out of the apartment he’d still go into rut, they’d been together too long at this point. They’d both suffer, but if the Alpha broke his sobriety it would be an acceptable sacrifice.

    “Are you sure about this?”

    “Real sure. When are you gonna let me go back to work?”

    “Nice try. I spoke with Bobby.”

    “You what?”

    “You’ve accumulated too much paid leave that he’s been nagging you about taking anyway.”

    “Damn it, Cas, what’d you do?”

    “Your prerogative for this week will be school and recuperating. That’s it.”

    “You two went over my head to take me off work for a damn week?”

    Castiel sighed, turning his attention back to driving, not answering until he was pulling them back into traffic. “You would have needed to use the time anyway. If you need to, might as well be for something like this. Next week he’ll put you on paperwork and things that don’t require the use of your bad arm or leg.”

    “We need a dog house. The couch is way too comfortable.”

    “It’s for your own good. We both love you and want what’s best for you. Right now, that means forcing you to take care of yourself so you don’t do more damage or relapse. Bobby will tell you the exact same thing.”

    “Do not pull that _it’s for my own good_ crap,” Dean snapped.

    “Are your meds wearing off?”

    “That ain’t the point here.” Yes, they were, but it didn’t have anything to do with this thank you very much.

    “We’ll be home soon, you can have some pie, take your next dose- “

    “This ain’t the pain talking, Cas, it’s frustration.”

    “So you are in pain.”

    Dean raked a hand back through his hair, wincing as it tugged his stitches. “Forget it. We’ll talk about this later.”

    “Dean…you know we mean well. We care about you.”

    He hated when Castiel said things like that. It made it harder to stay mad at him. Especially when he sounded so genuine.

    “Just get me my pie,” Dean grumbled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Victorian08, sleepyvixen, RooBear68, Kelly, NongPradu, CastielsHeart, and Karategrl80!

    The one-time Dean tried to call Bobby about his leave of absence, the crotchety Alpha told him to take the time off and to not show up until next Monday. Dean still wasn’t thrilled, but he also didn’t have the heart to banish his mate to the couch. As annoying as it was, Castiel really _did_ believe he was doing what was best, and he was better at keeping up with his medication than Dean himself.

    After the first week Castiel started picking him up with collapsed boxes in the trunk, collecting them for their pending move. Dean tried to help, but he was still limited. He compensated by trying to be even more understanding about the more delicate state his Alpha was in. More patient. Castiel was even more on edge than usual, and for all he swore to the contrary it was obvious he wasn’t getting much sleep. It wasn’t just because of the extra shifts he was picking up, either.

    Two weeks post ER visit, after he’d gotten his stitches out, Dean was half dozing on the couch post medication in front of a Dr. Sexy marathon. Bobby had been letting him off early, which he still found annoying, and after dropping him off Castiel had gone in for a late shift at work. Depending on his own work schedule and what assignments/tests he was dealing with Dean may or may not wait up for him. Between his laziness and a lull in assignments he was infuriatingly idle.

    Dean’s chin jerked up when he heard the front door unlock, yawning widely. “Hey, Cas. Slow night?”

    “Not exactly.”

    The Omega turned off their TV, putting both feet on the floor and pulling over his crutch. “What’s that supposed to mean? Some junkie and a drunk try to duke it out in the parking lot again?”

    “No.”

    He half turned towards the footsteps coming around, but he went still, eyes widening. The first words out of his mouth were, “The fuck happened to you?”

    Castiel didn’t say anything, just stepped stiffly into the middle of their living room. “I, um, thought this would be beneficial. Essentially all of my wardrobe has smoke soaked into it, despite your commendable efforts. I’m sorry for lying to you, but the extra shifts were necessary to cover this without endangering our budget.”

    Dean stared at him, blinking rapidly. The entire time he’d known Castiel, his wardrobe hadn’t changed much. It had gotten marginally more practical since graduating high school, trading tattered and ripped skinny jeans for often ratty and torn jeans of the baggier variety, graphic and striped shirts for plain dull, often black-based colors. He’d given up trying to tame his hair with a comb ages ago, leaving him with semi-permanent sex hair. He’d ditched the gaudy piercings for more subtle bars and small, slender rings. Two of the former were in his left brow, one of each of the latter in his upper and lower lip, not counting the silver stud in each ear and bar in his tongue. Castiel was a creature of habit, change was minimal and gradual if there was any change at all.

    That was not the Castiel standing before him now. There was no eyeliner, no black nail polish, no piercings to be found. Gone were the varying shades of black, gone were the ratty jeans and black denim jacket. In their place Castiel now wore a pair of intact, unworn jeans, and a pair of unremarkable tennis shoes. They were paired with an untucked white button-down shirt and a beige trench coat, his tattoos completely obscured. Even his hair was combed, which had only happened for their mating ceremony, and he’d given Dean plenty of reason to ruin it shortly thereafter. What’s more, Dean had distinctly heard a few bags drop to the floor by the door. Apparently there was more where this came from.

    “Cas, you…seriously, what the hell? This ain’t you.”

    “Perhaps it should be. I…I’m tired of the way people look at me.”

    “I thought you didn’t care what people thought.”

    “I care when they think I’m the one who did this to my mate,” the Alpha snapped, waving at the crutch. “You didn’t see what happened in the ER, Dean.”

    “Why, what happened?”

    “They thought I’d hurt you. The receptionist was trying to stall me while that B.M.A. representative talked to you. I know what they do is important, but they took one look at me and thought I was capable of something so, so _barbaric._ It’s not the first time something like this has happened, it’s just the worst. Besides, I’m due for a change.”

    “That’d better just be a wardrobe change.”

    “Of course. Why?”

    “Because I mated Castiel fucking Novak. And you’d better be the same Castiel fucking Novak whether you’re wearing Goth crap or…whatever the hell this is. Seriously, did you really need to fully reinvent your wardrobe? I know you wanna be an accountant, but you don’t have to look the part.”

    Castiel smiled ruefully. “The scent was lingering. I’m afraid after a point there’s only so much you can do.” He hesitated, then admitted slowly, “Actually, until high school this is similar to how I dressed.”

    Dean raised his eyebrows. He’d seen pictures, but he’d blamed it on Castiel’s very Catholic parents making him dress in a fashion they approved of. “So you’re going back to this? Just like that?”

    “Just like that.”

    “Because you got tired of people making assumptions? I thought you didn’t care.”

    “I don’t. If it were just me I wouldn’t but…” He closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out as he said, “You are everything to me. You deserve the best, and this way I’ll be better able to give you that. My initial change was a desperate attempt to stop squeezing into the mold my parents had designated for me, it just grew on me very quickly.”

    “You don’t gatta give it up because some douchebags got a bug up their ass’s,” Dean sighed. “If this is what you want, fine. If you don’t mind me running some of your stuff through a bleach cycle I’ll see if I can salvage it.”

    “I don’t- “

    “Cas, be honest with me. If it was just you and me would you be doing this?”

    The Alpha looked down at himself, smoothing a hand over his coat. “Perhaps. I don’t think I’m as resistant to public opinion as you give me credit for. Otherwise I would be so attached to such a dense shield. How thorough is bleach?”

    Dean smirked. He raised a hand, motioning him forward. “Have I ever told you I really don’t like it when you comb your hair? Seems like an awful lot of effort for nothing.”

    “Yes, you have mentioned that,” Castiel affirmed, crossing their small living room.

    “Good. Now get down here, I haven’t gotten laid in almost a month.”

    The Alpha frowned, hesitating as he stood over his mate. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. With your current state- “

    “My current state is horny and itching to mess up that hairdo. Leave the clothes on, would you?”

    “Why?”

    “Because with you looking like that, with your tats covered up, I can almost believe you’re a different person. It’s hot. Now get your hot ass down here.” He shifted himself sideways on the couch, throwing his good right leg over the cushions, keeping his booted left leg over the edge as he reached up to fist a hand in the Alpha’s trench coat. He gave it a firm yank, pulling his mate down over him. Castiel fumbled, bracing a hand on the couch’s back to keep himself from falling over the Omega.

    “You’re still injured- “

    “The bruises are basically gone, my stitches are out, and you know damn well what roll play does to me. Tell me you didn’t throw out the piercings.”

    “Why?”

    “You’re the one who said you might as well keep ‘em because they were so damn painful to get.”

    “I haven’t thrown them out, just removed them.”

    “Go get that tongue bar.”

    He could _see_ the Alpha’s eyes dilating. He got no further complaints after that. Castiel disappeared briefly into their bedroom, even before the Omega could remember how tricky getting pants over his boot could be. He’d barely pulled his t-shirt over his head before Castiel was striding back towards him, looking very much the determined Alpha.

    “Hang- hang on- whoa- hey!”

    Dean huffed as he was dumped flat to his back, his basketball shorts slipped off his hips and down his legs. Castiel somehow managed to get them over is clunky boot in mere seconds. Dean sucked in a sharp breath, then bit back a whimper when his mate growled softly at the sight of his underwear. His mate had always seemed to delight in the shy Omega’s kinks. Among those were panties, which he wore as often as he did boxers. He honestly hadn’t thought he’d be getting laid today, but they were comfortable and he’d been in the mood to feel sexy this morning. Now he was very glad he’d put on the pink silk bikini, a tremor running down his spine as he saw the look in his mate’s eyes.

    Castiel’s head dropped down, capturing his mouth in a long, hot kiss, fingers slipping under the waistband of the Omega’s underwear.

    “Don’t you dare,” Dean gasped when they came up for air.

    That only earned him a punishing kiss, so he couldn’t exactly protest when cloth ripped. As lips moved to press to the silver mate mark on his neck the Alpha growled, “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

    Dean’s head fell back, panting, crooked glasses still fogged as a hot mouth and cool metal bar kissed and nipped its way down his torso. His hips jerked when those lips wrapped around his cock, shifting his thighs farther apart. A keening whine hitched in his throat, his good hand tangling in Castiel’s hair as he choked, “Shit, Cas.”

    His mate nudged his left thigh over a bit more, draping his right thigh over his own shoulder and hooking his left hand over it. The digits of his free hand stroked down his taint, brushing over his hole as he took the Omega’s cock centimeter by taunting centimeter.

    “Cas, Cas, oh gods Cas. Ton-Tongue, finger-fingers- ah!”

    He loved that damn tongue piercing when his mate went down on him. The tantalizing mix of hot and cold, the way he somehow managed to swirl it in the most sensitive spots in mind-meltingly intricate patterns. And that was just what it could do on his cock. It was equally talented on his hole.

    Two fingers were slowly working their way inside him, twisting and curling in gradual movements, producing very wet sounds in less than a minute. The Omega was reduced to a whimpering, writhing mess on their couch, held in place only by his mate’s restraining arms. He blamed it on their dry spell as much as his mate’s skill, when he came after what seemed like far too short a time. His back arched clear off the couch, not bothering to restrain his shriek when he came hard, his mate swallowing his cock and cum alike.

    “Cas,” he whimpered weakly, trembling in the aftershocks.

    “Mmm, you’re right, it’s been a while, love,” the Alpha rasped, hitching his hips up a bit more. “Love having you cum on my fingers. Love the sounds you make. Cum on my tongue, then I’ll fuck your sweet ass.”

    “Seriously?” It came out as more of a squeak, as his protest came right as Castiel’s tongue ran over his dripping hole. As much as he loved when his mate went down on him, there was one small downside. Namely, no matter how good the orgasm, it never quite fulfilled him. Castiel could, and had, given him oral hours and still left the Omega hungry.

    A hand fisted around his cock, slowly stroking it as his Alpha thrust his tongue inside his dripping hole. _“Shit,_ Jimmy!”

    Castiel withdrew his tongue, pulling up to raise his eyebrows at the Omega over the cock he was still stroking. “Jimmy?” he repeated.

    “My mate is a tatted up Goth, remember? Besides, it ain’t like you’ve never used it.” With that he shoved Castiel’s head back down. “Back to work, Jimmy-boy.”

    The Alpha gave him a toothy grin before letting himself be reburied in the Omega’s ass, humming, “Such a bossy little bitch.”

    It was true, Castiel’s middle name was James, and until high school had gone by the less conspicuous nickname. He’d switched back to his first name when he’d donned all the black. Dean had never used it before, but for what it was worth his mate seemed to like it. He got a little more enthusiastic as the moans of “Cas” turned to whimpers of “Jimmy”.

    If anything Dean’s orgasmic cries came faster this time. He was still quivering and panting when Castiel sat up, crawling up the Omega’s body, pausing to lick streaks of cum off his belly as it rose and fell rapidly. Fingers tangled in his short hair when Castiel reached his face, kissing him slowly. Oh gods he could taste himself on Castiel’s mouth.

    “Let’s see, a bossy little bitch who belongs to another, very unfortunate Alpha,” Castiel hummed between teasing kisses. “He might get upset if he finds someone else’s cum in his Omega.”

    Dean groaned. “Not gonna be a problem. Convinced a good fuck will break me right now.”

    “Will it? If he’s right that’ll be even worse.”

    “No! Damn it fuck me already you stubborn son of a- ouch!”

    The hand that had just smacked his still raised ass gave the same buttock a tight squeeze. “Bossy little bitches don’t get fucked. They certainly don’t get knots.”

    Dean’s breath hitched. They weren’t a guarantee outside of heats, but if an Alpha was hot enough and came enough it could happen, if only with their mate. However long it’d been since they’d been intimate, it had been much longer since he’d had Castiel’s knot.

    “Jimmy _please,”_ he moaned, leaning up to nuzzle his throat. “Not gonna break. Haven’t had a knot in so fucking long. Let me make you feel good, let me earn your knot.”

    “Really? Might take a few rounds. You up for that?”

    “Fucking gods yes,” the Omega gasped.

    His head fell back with a moaning sigh as his mate bottomed out in one smooth motion. Not for the first time he wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for or curse his mate’s self-control. Castiel had to be achingly hard by now, but every movement was slow, controlled. No amount of whining or pleading or physical maneuvers would get him to rush, as Dean knew all too well. So he was left to endure the gradual buildup for a third time that night.

    Dean could finally feel that edge coming within reach when Castiel pulled out abruptly. He didn’t even get the chance to do more than whimper before the Alpha moved up to kneel astride his shoulders, fingers returning to his hair as his cock was pushed between his lips. His head was pulled back, making it very easy to thrust all the way down his throat. Dean’s eyes watered even as they rolled back in his skull, his good hand reaching up to clutch at the Alpha’s still clothed hip. It was just as erotic as roleplay or being tied to a bed, having Castiel screw his brains out while essentially fully clothed. Like various other things, feeling like he was being used as a bitch shouldn’t make him so hot and bothered but damn did it ever. At current all he wore was the boot and his arm sling, meanwhile his Alpha had just opened his pants enough to free his cock and balls.

    “That’s it, good boy,” the Alpha hummed, massaging his own cock through his mate’s throat. “If you want that knot you’re going to need to take a few loads first.”

    Not that he was given a choice in the matter, but he gladly took it. Castiel took his time, stroking the Omega’s throat through his orgasm. When he withdrew Dean was dripping tears and saliva and somehow it was still more of a turn-on than a turn-off. Especially when the Alpha patted his cheek, moving back down to thrust back into his soaked and stretched hole.

    Castiel repeated this process twice more, taunting the Omega with gentle strokes, tugging his dick and toying with his nipples until Dean was one thrust away from coming on his cock only to pull out, leaving him high and dry. Well, Dean would be high and dry. Left to gulp the Alpha’s cum as his own orgasm slipped through his fingers.

    The Alpha was pulling his cock from his lips after the third time, stroking his hair and rasping, “Still want that knot? Or are you worn out?”

    “No, not too tired,” Dean rasped. “Please, Jimmy, _please…”_

    “Gonna be a good little bitch for me?” the Alpha growled, kissing swollen lips roughly. “Gonna take my knot, let me fill you up? Ready for a real Alpha to knot you up?”

    “Yes, gods yes, Jimmy please, need your knot so bad,” the Omega gasped. He whimpered as the Alpha thrust roughly back into him, his hole left swollen and puffy and tender.

    “Yeah? And what if I give it to you?” Castiel challenged, hips snapping roughly, making his mate keen. “Huh? You’re still gonna run back to that Alpha of yours. If you’re going to take my knot, I’m not going to give it to some whore. If I knot you up, you’d better be a one-Alpha bitch from now on, got it?”

    Dean nodded franticly. “Yeah, Jimmy, anything, please.”

    “Needy and bossy,” the Alpha growled.

    Even so, he fulfilled the Omega’s wish. He taunted him for a while longer, then began to fuck him in earnest. Dean felt it, his mate’s knot swelling at the base of his cock. Holy mother of shit it felt amazing. Castiel kept going until the last second, forcing his knot just inside the Omega’s rim as it grew in earnest. Dean was already coming when they were tied together, giving voice to a breathless wail when he felt his mate start to cum. There was always much more when a knot was involved, one of the perks as far as Dean was concerned. Especially if you could milk the knot.

    “Mmm, that’s it, good boy,” the Alpha rasped, kissing him slowly. “So pretty on my knot. Stupid bastard doesn’t know what he lost. My pretty little Omega. Can’t wait until you’re healed up, going to have some real fun then.”

    Dean laughed breathlessly, running his fingers through hair already thoroughly ruffled. “Can’t wait.” He arched up into the next kiss, rolling his hips until the Alpha groaned. “Just promise me all these changes are only on the outside. Clothes and smokes only.”

    “Clothes and smokes only,” Castiel murmured, kissing him tenderly. “My word, love.”

    “Good. ‘M proud of you, Cas.”

    That earned him a raised brow. “Back to Cas now?”

    Dean snorted, grabbing a stray pillow and smacking his mate in the face with it. Castiel dashed it away, laughing as he bent to kiss him again. “Assbutt.”

    “I’m your favorite assbutt and you know it.”

    “Yes, yes you are.”

 

**The End**


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